The Deadline
by Pink Sugar Elephant
Summary: Arthur begins receiving disturbing and threatening letters and he feels he is being stalked. Soon he finds someone may be using him as a pawn in a dark and sinister game of revenge that could destroy his life and the lives of everyone he cares about.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning; **If you get scared easily you may want to stop reading now, If not, then I hope you enjoy this.

Although the first chapter focuses on Arthur, Canada will become a fairly major character in later chapters.

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><p>At about 12:30 PM, on a cool, windy, autumn day, a letter addressed to Arthur Kirkland arrived in the mailbox of a small home out in the suburbs of a large city. It was the only piece of mail delivered to that home on that day, and Arthur Kirkland, having just finished eating the lunch he had cooked for himself, picked up the letter that had fallen to the floor next to the front door.<p>

Arthur was an author, and although he was only twenty-six years old, he already had one novel published and was in the middle of writing a second one. His first novel, which he called "Just after Sundown" (A name he was not particularily fond of, but it fit the story, so whatever) was not too widely known, but in the year since it was published he had acquired a small but loyal fanbase, and some good reviews from critics. The book was about a serial killer, he had got the inspiration for the character while reading about the Zodiac killer case, a mystery that had always fascinated him. The novel he was currently writing did not have a name yet, but it was also about a serial murderer, this one based on the so called 'Midwest Axeman' who killed entire families while they slept in the midwest United States during the early 1910's. He hoped this novel would gain him more attention and more publicity than his last one. It was unlikely however, as most people had no interest in reading the kind of dark and depressing stories he wrote. As much as their misdeeds disgusted him, he had a morbid interest in murderers, so it was only natural that he'd write about them.

Arthur examined the white envelope he held in his hands. He noticed it had no return address, but even more strangely, the writer of the letter had written two words on the front of the envelope with a black felt pen; READ ALONE. This struck Arthur as rather odd, and now curious about the contents of the letter, he walked into his living room, sat down on a couch, and neatly tore open the envelope.

Inside were two pieces of paper, he pulled one out and began to read it, the first line sent a shiver down his spine, it read;

_"I have killed and I am going to kill again. Do not show this to the police, do not show this to anyone, both of those actions will result in consequences. You will probably not believe what I am about to say but I have been watching you, I am watching you now as you read this letter. Tonight, someone will be killed, I will use a hammer, the murders will get closer and closer to you until it's your turn to face me. Try to find me if you want, all attempts at tracking me will be useless however."_

Arthur put down the letter, walked over to his living room window and looked out, he could not see anyone but he closed the curtains anyways. Arthur knew that when he began writing fiction dealing with the dark subject matter of murder, he would probably have to deal with letters from crazy people like this occasionally, but being threatened like that in real life was alot more terrifying than he thought it would be.

After re-reading the note a few times, he turned his attention back to the envelope and pulled out the other piece of paper contained within it. It was a picture, obviously cut out of a newspaper, the picture was of a dead body, covered in a black body bag and being carried away from the swamp it was pulled out from. The caption below it read "Third Victim of massacred family found miles from crime scene." Arthur knew where this was from, a family of four had been brutally massacred in the middle of the night by an unknown assailant, the bodies of the parents had been found at the scene, but the kids had been kidnapped, and only one of their bodies was found. This had happened about two years ago, but he still remembered it fairly well. Then Arthur noticed what was probably the most unsettling thing about this letter, at the bottom of the picture, written in the same black felt pen used on the envelope, were the words "_my work, like it?_" Followed by a small smiley face.

Arthur was almost certain this could only be a sick prank, but he slipped the two pieces of paper back in the envelope for safe keeping, better safe then sorry after all.

Arthur placed the envelope on the brown wooden coffee table in front of him, and realizing he could use this as inspiration for his story, he got up and walked over to his computer. The writing program he used to write with was already open, so he sat down, lit a cigarette, and began to write.


	2. Chapter 2

Later that night, around 11:30 PM, Matthew Williams was walking alone down a dark urban street. The area he was in was known as the bad part of town by most residents of the city, but this was home to Matthew. He very rarely left the area, and every aspect of his life was based there. This was where he slept, this was where he bought heroin to save himself from the horrible effects of dope sickness, and this was also where he sold himself for money to buy that heroin. Matthew worked in the back alleys of this town everynight, servicing creeps, perverts, and shady business men who only ventured into this part of town for meetings with people such as himself.

Matthew had made a good amount of money that night. However he had already spent all of it, on heroin, and then he had spent the remaining bit on a chocolate bar from a local gas station, which would be his one meal of the day. He sometimes thought about how he could easily afford a nice apartment downtown and a comfortable life with the money he made if he only saved it, but he had shot up on junk only minutes earlier so the thought was pushed out of his mind. Although he made a few hundred dollars per night, not one cent of it was ever saved.

As Matthew continued to walk through the dark cold night, his destination came into view. It was a large public park, and was also where he'd sleep tonight. The air was cold but he had dealt with worse, and he was high, so he did not care.

Upon entering the park, Matthew found some nearby bushes and layed down behind them, Drifting off into sleep.

The Beast watched Matthew enter into the bushes. He had followed Matthew from the Alley where he shot up, all the way into the bushes he had just recently disappeared into.

The park Matthew had entered had been deserted by everyone except for prostitutes, drug dealers, and homeless people long ago. The Beast remembered playing in the park when he was a child. Back then it had a swing set, a slide, and a jungle gym. All but the swing set had been torn down however, and there were no swings remaining on the skeleton of the swing set. The Beast remembered seeing Matthew as a child play at that park aswell, the Matthew from back then was way different from the sick looking junky he saw today. The Beast thought for a moment, Matthew was now twenty-three, if he remembered correctly, and although he looked deathly skinny, he was still quite attractive, with long, wavy, blond hair, and bright violet eyes. The Beast resisted the urge to go take a closer look at the junky, he would do that later, but at the moment, Matthew was in a drug-induced stupor, and The Beast had a job to do. Having watched the bush for awhile and realizing Matthew had probably fallen asleep, he decided to go get his job done. He turned in the opposite direction and began walking downtown.

After walking for about a half an hour, the Beast, who was lost in thought just a moment before, looked around and realized he was in the downtown area of the city, the area where most of the city's richest residents resided. It was twelve at night and the streets were quiet, this was a good thing for the Beast. Although he did not like murdering in this area of the city (it was hard to fit in and look natural in this part of town) he had to do what he had went there for. So after looking around to make sure no one was watching, he slipped into a dark alleyway. Once in the alleyway, he located the nearest trash bin, and sat behind it. He pulled out a claw hammer from his small backpack and sat waiting.

After about ten minutes of waiting he heard footsteps. As they came closer towards the trash bin he held up his hammer, preparing to strike. As soon as the person stepped into the Beast's view he made his move, swinging the clawed side of the hammer into the victims forehead, sending them falling to the ground. Once the victim was on the ground, the Beast struck the victim a few more times with the flat side of the hammer, careful to not get any blood on himself. Once he was finished, he slipped the hammer into the trash bin behind him and examined his victim. She looked to be in her late twenties, and was dressed professionally, like an office worker or something. The Beast knew he was lucky tonight, for a victim like this would surely make it into the papers, meaning that author, Arthur Kirkland, would most likely read about this.

After the beast checked to make sure no blood had gotten onto his clothes, he casually stepped out of the alleyway, and with his hands stuck in the pockets of his coat, he began to walk away from the scene. He looked just like any normal person out for a nighttime stroll.


End file.
